


I Understand With Perfect Clarity Exactly What You Are

by ladylillianrose



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Falling In Love, Post Reichenbach, Romance, Sherlolly - Freeform, mollock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-04
Updated: 2013-10-07
Packaged: 2017-12-13 22:44:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 19,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/829732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladylillianrose/pseuds/ladylillianrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post Reichenbach.  An injured Sherlock has to stay at Molly's before he can attempt to bring down Moriarty's ring.  Throughout his stay they find their relationship changing.  Is it for the better? And how will they handle it when it is time for him to leave?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Complications in the Plan

**Author's Note:**

> Title of the story is from Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Spike "When I say I love you, it's not because I want you, or because I can't have you, and it has nothing to do with me. I love what you are. What you do. How you try. I've seen your kindness and your strength. I've seen the best and the worst of you, and I understand with perfect clarity exactly what you are. You are a hell of a woman. You're the one, Buffy." Always loved this scene, so much so I used part of it in my wedding vows.
> 
> As always don't own anything related to Sherlock sadly, though Toby the cat's behavior is based off of my own cat's.

“What do you need?”

“You.”

She should have known then how far gone she was. Sure it was no surprise that she had been in love with Sherlock Holmes for years but that night she knew she would put everything on the line for that man.

Molly stood on the side of the building, watching and waiting with baited breath. There were so many things that could go wrong with the plan, what if he missed the mattress, or John made it over before they were finished.

She watched as he dropped from the roof, flinching as he landed on the mattress, she let out a breath she didn't know she'd held. “Alright Molly, just like you planned,” she whispered to herself. She quickly ushered their hired crew to the scene, making sure they had the bag of blood to pour on the pavement, and the sedative for John. As soon as she saw them lift his body onto the gurney she was two steps ahead of them, ready to meet them in the morgue to switch the bodies and fill out the coroner's report.

In her head she knew he was alive, a little bruised and broken from the fall, but alive nonetheless. “He's alive, he's alive because of you,” she reminded herself, pushing her thoughts aside she directed them into her lab, thanked them as they left and locked the door behind them.

She set to work cataloging his injuries, a sprained wrist and ankle, a few bruises here and there, the worst by far were his cracked ribs, he'd need at least a few weeks of recovery before he could attempt to function normally. She grimaced at the thought of telling him that he'd need to recover before doing anything dangerous, this was Sherlock Holmes she might as well tell the ocean to stop being salty.

She dressed his wounds, waiting to tape his ribs until he came to, and began to wash the blood out of his hair. She'd often found herself wondering what it would be like to run her fingers through his luxurious curls.

“Come on now, keep it together,” she muttered to herself. “You can do this, don't think about it being him, just rinse and go...and oh God they are as soft as they look...” She took a step back and a deep breath, trying to calm her fluttering stomach.

Sherlock groaned, slowly coming to, “Urgh...Moll...di...t...w-rk?” he attempted to say between sharp stabs of pain, his ribs hurting with every breath.

“Oh!” she jumped in surprise, “you're awake, thank goodness.” She quickly helped him to a siting position so she could begin bandaging his ribs.

“Yes it worked. John saw everything he was supposed to, then we sedated him, he'll be out for a few hours giving us a chance to get away.”

He nodded sadly, attempted to stand up and hissed in pain. He glanced sharply at Molly as though she were the cause of it.

“You've managed to sustain only a few injuries, a sprained wrist and ankle, I managed to wrap those up, a few scrapes and bruises, but I haven't been able to tape your ribs yet. The impact even with the mattress there was too much and you've cracked two of your ribs.” Molly was proud of herself for having gotten through that without stammering once, though it helped that she was keeping herself busy looking for the tape and bandages.

“Suppose it could have been worse,” he managed to hiss out, holding his side and following Molly's movements with his eyes.

“Alright, I'm going to need to take your shirt off so I can fix up your ribs and dress the other body.”

Sherlock quirked an eyebrow at her, she blushed, “No...I didn't mean...” damn she was back to her stuttering self, she hated that he did that to her.

Without a word Sherlock removed his shirt, silently asking for help getting it over his sore wrist. Within minutes Molly had him patched up and set to work dressing the replacement body, and preparing it for the mortuary to take away. Under normal circumstances the body would remain at Barts until the investigation was complete, but after calling in a few favors and expediting the autopsy report and death certificate (both with her signature, which if she were caught could cost her license) they were able to get the body removed immediately.

While they waited Molly explained to Sherlock that his injuries would require some rest, and that he surely couldn't expect to run off in search for Moriarty's ring with cracked ribs. Sherlock scoffed, “I'll be fine Molly, I need to leave right away, the sooner I start this the sooner its over.” Molly glared at him, “I just saved you from death, I sure as hell didn't do that so you could walk right out and tempt fate a second time!”

Sherlock frowned at her, “You know how important this is Molly, you know I can't afford to wait.”

“I don't give a damn, you are in no condition to go out there chasing dangerous criminals. You will stay at my flat until I deem you well enough to travel, do you understand?” Molly was yelling now, did he not realize how foolish he was being? That she wasn't going to be there to patch him up all the time, and that if he died for real out there only she would know and mourn.

Sherlock was shocked, this was not the sweet, shy pathologist he knew, the last time he had heard her speak so plainly to him was at that terrible Christmas party when he was a complete arse and she called him out on it. But this was different, this involved people's lives on the line, how could she expect him to not take action.

He stood up, peering down at her, “Molly you know...OW!” he hissed as she poked him in the ribs. “What the blazes did you do that for?” he growled, wobbling on his feet from the pain.

She smirked, “All I did was poke you and now you can barely stand. I won't repeat myself again, you will be staying at my flat until I say otherwise, end of discussion.”

He gaped at her, where did this fire come from? Did she suddenly grow a backbone, and he just hadn't noticed? He would just have to observe her further to see if this was merely the adrenaline talking or if she really had changed.

The mortuary staff came and took the body with little fuss, while Sherlock hid in Molly's office. After they left, Molly grabbed her purse, stuffing a few extra bandages and mild painkillers into it and turned to Sherlock.

“You'll need to lean on me until we get you into the cab, and then it's bed rest for you tonight.”

He nodded, leaning on her for support they managed to shuffle out the back with little notice, and grab a cab to Molly's flat.

Thankfully she lived on the ground floor, she doubted she'd have been able to help him up a flight of stairs.

“Toby? Mummy's home,” she called to her cat. Sherlock rolled his eyes and scoffed, of course she had a cat, typical.

She eased Sherlock onto the couch and busied herself feeding Toby and getting some water so Sherlock could take the anti-inflammatory she had snagged for him.

Toby walked warily over to the couch and sat staring at Sherlock as though deducing him. Sherlock returned the look and waited. Eventually Toby seemed to find nothing incriminating about him and jumped up to settle down next to him.

Molly returned from the kitchen water and pill in hand to find Toby contentedly purring as Sherlock absentmindedly scratched his head.

“I see you've made a new friend already,” she said chuckling. “Here take this, it should help with the swelling, and then you need to sleep. I'll go make the bed up for you.”

“I don't sleep. And the sofa is fine for me,” he said not wanting to put her out of her bed.

“Sherlock I'm too tired to argue tonight, you're injured, my couch is not comfortable to sleep on and we've both had a long day. Please just take my bed, I'll take the couch and let that be the end of it?”

“Fine I'll sleep in your bed, but if the sofa is so uncomfortable then you shouldn't sleep on it either, it won't help you to sleep poorly.”

“I only have the one bed, and the more injured one gets it. Besides sleeping on the couch isn't going to kill me, but it isn't going to help you heal any quicker.”

She quickly walked down the hall preventing further conversation. She grabbed some linens from the closet and fixed her bed up. She returned to the living room and helped him off the couch and into her room. Sherlock Holmes in her room, sleeping in her bed, oh she had dreamed of this day....well not like this of course, but still.

She helped him lie comfortably on the bed, checked his bandages and headed out to the living room.

“Molly,” he called, stopping her in her tracks. She turned and looked at him questioningly. “Thank you, for everything.” She smiled sadly, “You're welcome Sherlock. You know I'd do anything for you. Good night.”

She closed the door and wandered out to the living room, her head spinning with the events of the day and collapsed on the couch. Within minutes she was asleep, she was going to need it for the weeks ahead.


	2. Lies to protect him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day after, phone call from John, Molly attempts to adjust to having the man of her dreams in her apartment.

Molly hearing a crash from her bedroom jolted awake. She quickly padded into her room, to find Sherlock gripping her dresser balancing on his good foot.

“You should be resting,” she scolded picking up the trinkets he'd knocked over in an attempt to maintain his footing.

“I didn't mean to wake you. I was trying to get to the bathroom,” he muttered, frowning at his inability to do so himself.

“Sherlock, you're injured its okay to ask me for help, now lets get you situated,” Molly sighed wrapping her arm around his waist and helping him to the bathroom door.

“There's some fresh towels in there, I'll bring you a change of clothes. Sorry I only have my bath things, I can run out later to get you your own things, but for now the hot water should do your injuries some good. When you're done call me so I can re-bandage your injuries.”

He nodded and grimaced as he walked into the bathroom closing the door. Molly went to the bedroom and grabbed one of her t-shirts and a pair of sweatpants, he wasn't going anywhere and these would be more comfortable to rest in while healing. She left them outside the bathroom and headed to the kitchen.

She sighed rubbing her back, that sofa was really a menace, at least she had managed to convince Sherlock not to sleep on it, who knows the damage it would have done to his ribs.

“You ready for some breakfast there Toby?” she asked the ginger cat who was weaving affectionately in and out of her legs. She fed him and set about making coffee and toast for herself and Sherlock, she really needed to go grocery shopping, especially if he was going to be here for a while.

“Molly?”

“Be right there,” she called, stopping to grab the bandages out of her purse.

She tapped on the bathroom door and opened it, “Here I figured these would be more comf....” she trailed off as she saw him standing there in nothing but a towel, curls dripping water down his chest.

She swallowed blushingly, reminding herself to breathe. 'God he's gorgeous! Breathe Molly, try not to think of running your tongue along his torso,” she groaned internally.

“Molly? The clothes?” he said nodding pointedly at her hands.

“Oh yes, here put these on and I'll patch you up when you're ready,” she said quickly shoving the clothes into his hands and backing out of the bathroom.

She quickly ran back to the kitchen and poured herself a mug of coffee not bothering to add anything to it she took a drink, letting the bitter flavor bring her back to her senses.

“Oh Toby what am I going to do? How can I expect to survive a few weeks of this?” she groaned, slumping down to the floor.

“Prowr?” Toby asked, headbutting her hand, unaware of his mistress's inner turmoil.

“Hmph, self serving as always I see. Right, I'll just have to ignore it, be strong. He's here to recover, and then he has a mission, no time to deal with moon eyed Molly.” Determined she poured herself another cup, this time adding milk and one sugar, and poured a second cup adding two sugars for him.

He slowly made his way down the hall to the kitchen, holding onto the walls for support but still trying to move as much on his own as possible.

Molly rolled her eyes, she assumed he was going to be a difficult patient but this was ridiculous, less than 24 hours and he's already trying to prove he's fine. Wordlessly she steered him to the kitchen table, set his coffee in front of him with some toast.

“M'not hungry,” he said lifting the mug to his nose and inhaling.

“You'll need to eat with the meds you're on, otherwise they'll do a number on your stomach lining. I know you don't like to eat but you need to and if you don't then I'll just have to force you,” Molly said determinedly crossing her arms.

He raised his eyebrows, apparently last night was not a fluke, Dr. Molly Hooper had a spine, and despite her stammering when she saw him out of the shower, she clearly was not as afraid of him as she once was.

“Fine,” he grumbled, moodily taking a bite of toast, “Satisfied?”

God he was worse than a child she thought angrily sighing. “Must you behave like a toddler? Eat the whole thing and then take this,” she said placing another anti-inflammatory on the plate.

“I'm going to get dressed while you finish breakfast,” she headed down the hall before turning around and saying, “Oh and don't even think about trying to feed the toast to Toby, he'll just play with it and make a mess.”

He sighed glancing at the aforementioned creature, “Traitor, I could have used your help.”

“Mrow?” Toby looked at him confused, before following his mistress down the hall.

Molly reappeared a few moments later, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, her hair in a messy bun.

“Alright lets get you settled on the couch, so I can see how you're healing,” she noted that he had finished the toast thankfully, she wasn't in the mood to argue.

She helped him over to the couch, placing a pillow under his ankle and gingerly feeling his wrist. “Hmm, wrist seems to be doing better, still needs to be wrapped. Your ankle however isn't improved at all, though I'd imagine that's from trying to walk on it already,” she scolded.

“Let's take a look at your ribs,” she said lifting his t-shirt up, and cautiously touching the ribs. He hissed in pain, she moved her hands away quickly, “Sorry. They still look pretty bad, a little bit of bruising but the swelling seems to still be there,” she went into doctor mode as she wrapped the bandages around his waist, keeping them tight enough to support but not enough that he was in pain.

“In a little while I'll get you an icepack for them to see if we can't get some of the swelling down so I can see just how much damage there is.”

He'd stayed unnaturally quiet through her examination, watching her movements with a practiced eye, she had a deft hand in first aid, and unlike when they were in the lab she limited her talking to only the matter at hand, she was calm and collected, letting her clinical training take over.

“There all set,” she smiled at him, “Now if you'll just stay put for the day it should give you a chance to recover.”

He frowned, confined to the couch all day? Boring!

She caught the look on his face, “Oi don't look at me like that. There's plenty to keep you busy, watch some crap telly, I've got plenty of books and movies so I don't want to hear anything about there being nothing to do!”

He sighed, “If I must I suppose I can keep myself occupied.”

“I'm going to pop out to the...” she was cut off by a chorus of “Manic Monday.”

Sherlock raised his eyebrows.

“Sorry my mobile...Hello? Oh hi John” she winced at how bright her voice sounded,

Sherlock attempted to sit up on the couch, not wanting to miss anything, he knew John was calling to tell Molly about his “death.”

“Yes I heard...I'm so sorry John.”

“You knew?”

“I was on call at the time. John I was the one who did the autopsy,” Molly swallowed, this was the hard part lying to all her friends.

“And?! Was there anything unusual, are you sure it was him?”

Molly burst into tears, “Yes John it was him.”

“Oh God Molly I'm sorry, I didn't mean...God I know you loved him...I just can't accept this...what am I going to do?”

She listened to John break down in sobs. She wanted to tell him the truth, make the pain stop, but she couldn't the plan hinged on her lies.

“We're going to get through this together okay? I started the arrangements last night, you'll just need to decide when you want the service. I'll take care of the rest,” Molly stated.

“I can't ask you to do that Molly, I appreciate it, but its too much.”

“John please let me do this, let me help. I may not have mattered to him as much as he did to me, but I know he'd not want you to bear this burden alone.”

“You're wrong you know. In his own way he did care for you, even if he didn't show it.”

“Yes, well...” she sniffled, “Just let me know when you need me okay? Promise? Take care of yourself John.”

“You too Molly.”

She hung up the phone and let out a sigh, that was the hardest conversation she'd had.

“Why are you crying? You know I'm not dead, I'm sitting right here.”

She glared at him, “That doesn't make lying to John and everyone else any easier! You didn't hear how broken he sounds, it hurt me to lie to him listening to the pain, knowing that I've helped cause it!”

“You know you can't tell him. Emotions aside, you can't compromise their safety.”

“Dammit Sherlock I know!” She grabbed her jacket and keys, she needed to get out of there away from him, she needed to be able to let her feelings out without having him question every one of them.

“Where are you going?”

“Out! I can't stay here at the moment, and I need to grab things from the store anyway.” She said pulling her shoes on and walking to the door. “I'll be back in a little while, I just need to let off some steam, okay?”

She opened the door, “Molly?”

She turned. “Be careful.” She smiled. “You're no help to me if something happens to you.”

Her smile dropped and she slammed the door behind her. Damn that man! If she didn't love him so much she'd probably kill him herself!


	3. Truce?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly grabs supplies, makes herself a promise, while Sherlock deals with his boredom and makes an alarming discovery...

Molly was fuming as she walked to the store, he always said such terrible things, and being injured probably didn't help his mood. She hadn't planned on him needing to stay at her place to recover, he'd been there for less than 24 hours and she was already getting tired of his behavior. She wasn't expecting him to change, he was Sherlock after all, and she was just the lovelorn pathologist who let him walk all over her. She sighed, she wished she wasn't so bloody obvious, she'd been working on not stammering around him and if it weren't for the incident in the bathroom this morning she'd have almost gone a whole day without being reduced to a stuttering mess. Her mind began to wander back... “No bad Molly! Remember he's being a git, and you have shopping to do!” She strode purposefully into the shop to get supplies for the coming week.

He stared at the door as he heard her stomp down the walk, what put her in such a mood? He looked questioningly to Toby, seated on the arm of the couch. 

“What was that about?”

Toby yawned, he was used to his mistress's moods, crying one minute, dancing around the room with him another.

“Hmph some help you are.”

Sherlock looked around the apartment that was to be his cage. Books and papers were scattered across the coffee table and what he assumed was a desk in the corner. Obviously she hadn't been expecting company anytime soon. Her living room was almost entirely wall to wall bookshelves, he noted medical books, some classics, a few children's books (kept for sentimental reasons no doubt) and a few fairly erotic looking romance novels. He raised his eyebrows at the last, didn't expect that from the quiet doctor. Looking further he saw her shelf of movies, romantic comedies, musicals, period drams, no surprises there. He wanted to take the time to really look at her bedroom, but that would involve moving, and if she found out he'd gotten off the sofa (which was just as uncomfortable as she had promised) she'd have a fit, and he'd already had enough of her moods today. He settled in to see what was on TV, there must be something to keep him distracted till she came home.  
Several hours later Molly fumbled for her keys at the door, juggling several shopping bags. She was exhausted, shopping was really only fun when you had someone with you. She walked inside and dropped the bags on the floor, causing Sherlock to jolt awake on the couch.

“Owww....” he said holding his neck uncomfortably, “Did you buy the whole store?” he exclaimed looking at the bags on the floor.

Molly rolled her eyes, “Well I wasn't expecting to have company so I hadn't done any grocery shopping. Not to mention someone didn't think to bring any clothes with them so I had to stop and get those too!” She blushed at the thought of Sherlock without clothes. 

“I'll uhh...just put this stuff away and start on lunch...if if if that's okay.” She stammered, not meeting his eyes, she grabbed the grocery bags and headed to the kitchen.

He rolled his eyes, “You know I don't eat much. Especially when I'm on a case.”

“You will eat while you recover or you'll find yourself being stuck here longer, and your case is on hiatus until you're better,” she called from the kitchen. Stubborn man, she knew he didn't eat, she probably knew that better than anyone.

“Soup okay for lunch?” He made a non-committal grunt, that she took as a yes. She made them both bowls and brought them out to the couch. She set his down on the coffee table, and took a seat in the chair by the sofa. She half expected him to fight her about the soup, but was pleasantly surprised to see him eat it without further comment.

“I picked up a few shirts and pants, a pair of trainers, socks, boxers and the like. I know they're not your normal style, but I suppose that's kind of the point isn't it?” 

He nodded, “Thank you.”

She smiled, “No problem. I also picked up some hair dye to try while you recover. See which disguises you best”

He was pleased she had thought of that, then again everyone always underestimated her, that's what had made her the perfect person to help pull this off.

“Look, I know its not easy being stuck here,” she sighed, might as well get this out of the way. “But you know its the only logical plan for now. I'm happy to help, but I'm not going to just let you walk all over me like you do at work. This is my home, you're my friend but you're also my patient, so you're going to need to listen to me, okay?” she bit her lip nervously waiting for him to say something.

He raised his eyebrows, so she really did have a backbone buried somewhere in there, this could prove to be interesting to watch. He cleared his throat, “Of course, this is your house, and I do appreciate what you are doing for me. I know I'm a difficult man to live with, John could tell you that, but I'll try to not be to difficult.” 

She smiled, she'd heard stories from both John and Mrs. Hudson about some of the stunts he'd pulled.

She cleared her throat, “I'm going to put these clothes away and then pop into the shower. Do you need anything?”

He shook his head, lost in thought trying to piece together the Molly Hooper that he'd seen a glimpse of with the one he knew. 

He watched her gather the bags, his thoughts wandered to how nice it was to talk to her without her stumbling over her words, and found himself staring at her shapely denim clad bum....“Where in the bleeding hell did that come from?” he groaned and scrubbed his face with his hands, just one more distraction he didn't need!


	4. Caring is an Advantage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock looks deeper into what it is about Molly

Molly stepped into the shower and breathed a sigh of relief. That could have gone much worse, actually come to think of it why didn't it go worse? She'd expected some resistance from him, but there didn't seem to be any at all. She shook her head, not wanting to think about the reasons, just accepting them, she relaxed and enjoyed the hot spray of the shower.

Sherlock was sitting there in shock at his revelation to himself. This was Molly, he'd kept her at arms length for years and suddenly now at the most inconvenient time he's drawn to her....No that was a lie, he'd been drawn to her before today, otherwise he wouldn't have needed her help. 

He knew she had feelings for him, he'd been flattered at first, and quickly turned it into a tool for getting his way. He knew it was wrong, but he had never said anything that wasn't untrue, he just never acted on them. When she'd walked in wearing that lipstick and asked him out for coffee, he knew what she wanted, and he found himself staring at those lips, heart racing, but he pushed those thoughts away, work came first, and relationships were distractions, and Molly Hooper was a big distraction.

She stepped into the hallway, rubbing her hair dry with the towel, she should probably check on him, he was going to need another pill and some fresh bandages. She wandered out to the living room still drying her hair, “Sherlock?”

He turned at the sound of her voice, and stared. Her cheeks were flushed from the steam of the shower, she was wearing the same jeans as she was in earlier, barefoot and her hair was still damp, she looked adorable. Not a classic beauty, she was more natural, and this look suited her far more than he awful sweaters and baggy trousers that she wore at work, though if she looked like this there he doubted he would get anything done.

“Yes?”

“I need to check on your dressing and you should probably take another pill. Do they help with the pain at all?” She hung her towel over a chair, grabbing the first aid kit off the table and sitting on the floor in front of the sofa.

“A little, I can handle the pain, its the swelling I'm more concerned with,” he said, following her movements with his eyes. 

“Sit up,” she commanded, gesturing for him to remove his shirt. He sat up with no problem, but as he moved to take his shirt off he hissed in pain. “Here, allow me,” she eased his arms out of the holes, and slowly lifted it over his head. She presented a calm exterior, however inside she was a mess, hyperventilating, eyes glazed over, but she pushed it down, he was injured she was his doctor, this was not for pleasure. 

She removed the bandages and tenderly placed her fingers on his ribs. His breath hitched, she raised her eyes to his, “That hurt?” she inquired.

“A little, more bruising than stabbing thankfully,” she removed her fingers, and wound the bandages around his torso, making sure they were tightly bound.

“Lucky for you, they seem to be healing nicely,” she said moving on to roll his ankle in her hand. He let out a moan, she nearly dropped his foot in surprise. “I'm going to get an icepack for this, you need to keep it elevated,” she placed his foot on the pile of pillows on the couch. Retrieving the ice pack and a towel she gingerly wrapped his ankle with the ice.

“And last let me see your wrist,” she scooted along on the floor and took his hand in hers. She interlocked their fingers and began slowly rotating his wrist. He watched her move his wrist, her hand fitting perfectly in his, almost natural. He winced slightly as she moved it slightly, “Good, that's good. Your wrist wasn't sprained like I thought, just badly bruised. You should be able to move it without pain by tomorrow. He nodded, his mind puzzling all the new thoughts he was having about Molly.

She grabbed his glass off the table, and handed him one of the pills. He took it obediently, eyes never leaving her face as he swallowed. Why did she care so much? He knew the answer of course, Molly had a big heart, and even with a surly, abrasive detective who everyone else had discredited, sprawled on her couch, he knew she would care for him no matter what. Mycroft was wrong it seemed, caring was an advantage, Molly Hooper was proof of that, him being alive and safe was proof.


	5. Persuade Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some insight into Molly, and an odd request from Sherlock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sadly I don't own Jane Austen either!

Sherlock was being quiet, not that it was unusual for him, but for Molly the stillness in the apartment was awkward. It's why she always tried to engage him in conversation at work, anything but silence. She glanced at him as she sat in her armchair, he looked exhausted, she knew he didn't sleep much, but this wasn't normal exhaustion, this was world-weary, full-bodied, no amount of sleep could help exhaustion. She knew this was only the beginning, staying here to recover would probably be the most rest he'd get until he could safely return to the land of the living.

“Molly, you're staring,” he muttered.

“Sorry...I'll uh just...I'll go find something to do,” she mumbled, rising from her chair.

“No, stay. I was just observing,” he said, suddenly anxious that she stay in the room, her presence was comforting, a reminder that he wasn't alone in this.

“Alright...” she returned to her chair, detouring slightly to pick up a well worn copy of Persuasion. She pulled her feet up and made herself comfortable intending to quietly sink into the world of Jane Austen.

“Judging from the state of the cover and spine of that book you've read it at the least a dozen times,” Sherlock looked at Molly nodding at the book. “One would think that after so many perusals of the same story you'd wouldn't need to actually have the book in front of you.

She shrugged, “Its a comfort to me. When I was younger all I had were my books, they were the only friends I really had. And the familiarity of opening one I knew very well was like greeting an old friend, only this one wouldn't let me down or say terrible things to me.”

He looked at her, she possessed the ability to make everyone forget about her, clearly something she had learned young. Make yourself invisible, stay out of the way and no one will bother you. It gave him an odd pang in his chest, it reminded him of what he used to do when the boys at school would call him a freak. 

Molly flushed under his scrutinizing gaze, he was attempting to deduce her, she knew that look. It was oddly arousing to have him look at her like that, as though there were no barriers and he could see what she really was.

“So what's this amazing book about then?” he looked at the book in her hands attempting to discern its subject from the cover.

“You've not heard of Jane Austen?” Molly exclaimed surprised.

“If I had, I've deleted it, trivial information,” he waved his hand dismissively.

“Like the solar system,” she muttered quietly rolling her eyes.

He raised his eyebrow, of course she read John's blog, damn him.

“It is a romantic story,” she started, interrupted by a snort that was Sherlock for “Obviously.”

“A young woman falls in love with a poor man, and instead of listening to her heart she is persuaded by a friend of the family to not marry him. He joins the navy becomes a captain, incredibly wealthy, while she pines for him for nearly eight years. He returns, angry at her previous rejection and behaves as though she was a stranger. She of course is still in love with him but feels his anger is rightly deserved, she's had time to think. They both attempt to exist within the same circle of friends, both believing their love to be one-sided and determined to let the other be happy.” She smiled, when she was younger Pride & Prejudice had been her favorite of Austen's works, but as she grew older she began to understand the heart that waits more.

“And of course everything is tied up with a nice neat bow and happy ending,” Sherlock remarked, boredom clearly in his voice.

“Well, yes, but it isn't easy, and besides the story may seem cliché but its the writing that makes it wonderful.”

“Prove it.”

“Wh-What? How?”

“Read it to me. Convince me,” he shifted on the couch attempting to make himself comfortable.

“Me? Why?” she was at a loss, why would he want her to read to him.

“I've nowhere to go. Can't work on the case while I'm laid up on your sofa, so I must have some form of entertainment. I'd rather listen to you read than attempt to find something to watch on the telly.” He wasn't really sure what had possessed him to ask her to read to him. He was capable of reading on his own, but the way she spoke about the book made her eyes sparkle, and she seemed more confident when discussing it. He liked confident Molly, and if listening to her read from a beloved book made her stick around, he was willing to listen.

“Well, alright,” she cleared her throat and began; 

“Sir Walter Elliot, of Kellynch Hall, in Somersetshire, was a man who, for his own amusement, never took up any book but the Baronetage; there he found occupation for an idle hour, and consolation in a distressed one;”*

Sherlock closed his eyes and let her voice wash over him, calming him and for once since this whole thing had started he felt relaxed.

*Persuasion by Jane Austen, if you haven't read this I highly recommend it, you can read it for free here http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/105 It is one of my favorite books of all time.


	6. Of All The Gin Joints

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sleeping arrangements revised, dinner and a movie.

After several chapters Molly's throat was a bit tired, she placed a bookmark where she had just finished, and stretched. 

Sherlock opened his eyes at the interruption, “I'm going to make myself a cuppa. Would you like one?” Molly asked, heading towards the kitchen. 

“Yes....please,” he added as an afterthought. He didn't know how long he had been listening to her read, judging by the bookmark there was still quite a bit left. The story was rather typical of the time, but she was right about the language, and he did enjoy how animated she was while reading it. He frowned, there were those thoughts again, they were confusing. If they had suddenly appeared he'd dismiss them as a response to Molly being the only one who knew he was alive. But they had been there all along, as though it was just in the corner of his eye, always there but only now really seeing it.

Molly brought a tray out with tea and a few biscuits for the both of them, she set it on the coffee table, poured him a cup and settled back in her chair with her's. They sat quietly, Sherlock staring into his cup, Molly looking at him quizzically. 

“Sherlock...something the matter?” As soon as the words left her mouth she could have kicked herself, she opened her mouth to apologize for the stupidity of the question.

He looked up at her, “No, no....just puzzling through some things.” She smiled, he always had something he was working on, a mind like that rarely rested.

They finished their tea in companionable silence. Molly yawned, she hadn't slept as much or as well as she had hoped to last night, maybe she'd take a nap. She needed to get him off the couch first though, not to mention he could use the rest too judging by the circles under his eyes.

“I'm going to lie down for a bit if you don't mind. You should probably try to get some rest too, let me help you to the bed.” He nodded and set his cup down. She helped ease him off the couch and into her room. 

She got him settled in the bed, “I'll just be on the sofa if you need anything.” He grabbed her wrist, “Molly, that sofa is a horror to even sit on, you won't get any rest on it. Your bed is large enough for both of us, and it will make it easier for me if I need your assistance.”

Molly bit her lip, and flushed, she may have gotten better about being around him and speaking to him but sleeping next to him was a whole other ordeal. “No no, the couch is fine,” she blurted hurriedly.

“Molly,” he said sternly. “Physician heal thyself. If I have to rest and be comfortable so do you, now get into bed.”

She raised her eyebrows at the last statement and turned an even brighter shade of red. She nodded, not trusting her voice, and crawled into her bed, putting as much space between the two of them as possible.

Sherlock rolled his eyes at her obvious behavior, but choose to remain silent. “Sleep well Molly.”

“Mmm, you too,” she mumbled into her pillow.

A few hours later Molly awoke, she rolled onto her side to gaze at her bed partner. Sherlock was still napping, he looked much more relaxed, she smiled, he looked younger especially with his curls a mess from sleep. She crawled silently out of the bed and set to work making dinner.

A little while later Sherlock awoke to an empty bed and the smell of something delicious cooking. He slowly eased himself out of bed, wincing slightly as his foot hit the floor. He dragged himself in the direction of the kitchen, using the walls and furniture to support him when he needed it. He came around the corner to find Molly busy cooking and humming to herself. He leaned against the wall to watch, smiling at how at ease she looked. 

She turned spoon in hand, startled, “Oh Sherlock you scared me! You should have let me help you.”

He waved her off dismissively, “I managed fine on my own, slowly but I am capable.”

She nodded and turned back to the stove, she knew it was important to him to not have to rely on her. 

“I hope chicken curry is okay for dinner. And yes you will have some,” she said, knowing he was opening his mouth to protest.

He closed his mouth, it did smell good, and if he ate then he didn't have to hear about it all the time. “Alright,” he shuffled to the kitchen table and took a seat.

Molly filled their plates and placed them on the table. She turned back and got her wine glass, already half empty. 

“I'd offer you some but not with the meds you're on” she apologized.

He nodded, and picked up his fork.

Molly watched him from over the rim of her glass, waiting for a reaction to the food.

“I must say I'm impressed,” he said after a bite. “I didn't know you could cook.”

“I learned when I was younger. Dad would be at work most days so I was in charge of dinner. So I taught myself, much better than take-away and tinned soup.”

He nodded, he knew she was an only child, lost her mother when she was four, so she was left to take care of her father. No wonder she was so willing to help him, it was in her nature.

They made idle chat through dinner, skirting the topic of his “death.” After dinner they decided to watch a movie, so while Molly cleaned up Sherlock perused her movie collection.

Finding a suitable choice he popped it into the player and took a seat on the sofa. Molly joined him a few moments later, sitting on the opposite end of the sofa.

“What did you decide?”

“Casablanca.”

“I love this film,” she smiled. “It's been a while since I watched it.”

“I've never seen it before. It sounded interesting,” he admitted.

“Give me your foot, it needs to be elevated,” she said tapping his leg.

He raised his eyebrows but did as she said. She lay it across her lap and placed a pillow just under his ankle.  
“There, that should help,” she smiled and pressed play on the remote.

Throughout the film he watched her out of the corner of his eye, her pleasure evident on her face. Obviously she knew the movie well, he caught her mouthing along with it a few times. He managed to keep quiet through the film, it was enjoyable, and clearly something Molly loved.

“So?”

“It was enjoyable. I rather liked Rick, he seemed a sensible fellow.”

Molly chuckled, of course he did.

“You would. Well I'm glad you liked it. But we should probably get to bed,” she yawned.

He slowly made his way to her bedroom, with her close behind in case he needed her help.

She gave him his anti-inflammatory pill again and they both settled into bed.

“Goodnight Sherlock.”

“Goodnight Molly...thank you.”

“Sherlock you don't have to keep thanking me,” she said turning to face him.

“I don't think I could ever finish thanking you for what you've done,” he said closing his eyes.

She didn't know what to say, she lay there awake long after he had fallen asleep replaying his words in her head, till at last sleep overtook her.


	7. Today's Entertainment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly continues to read Persuasion to Sherlock with unexpected results.

She awoke the next morning to an empty bed and the smell of fresh brewed coffee. Groaning she rolled out of bed, and stumbled out to the kitchen. Sherlock was seated at the table reading the paper, she mumbled hello and reached to pour herself a cup.

She let out a moan of pleasure as the caffeine hit her bloodstream, and immediately clapped a hand over her mouth eyes wide as she realized that she had done that in front of him.

He lowered the paper and looked at her in surprise, “I'm pretty good at brewing coffee but I had no idea I was _that_ good,” he said smirking.

Molly blushed even more, damn him and his smirks. She cleared her throat, “Sorry...you know...desperate for it.” She flushed even more as she heard the double meaning. “I'll uh just....” she fled from the room.

Sherlock followed her with his eyes, mouth slightly agape at what he had just heard his pathologist say. _His pathologist_? He resisted the urge to bang his head on the table, he was well and truly gone, and she certainly wasn't helping matters with innuendos like that, unintentional as they may be.

Molly quickly grabbed a change of clothes and jumped into the shower in an attempt to drown away her embarrassment. She had been doing so well, stupid sleep deprived mind, it was his fault anyway. If he hadn't said what he'd said last night she wouldn't have stayed up so late puzzling over it, and then had incredibly frustrating dreams about the man in her bed. She groaned and leaned her head against the wall, two days he'd been here and she was practically throwing herself at him!

She stepped out of the shower and got dressed. She glanced at herself in the mirror, “Right, just go out there and pretend it didn't happen. You can do this Molly, you're a big girl.” She squared her shoulders and headed into the living room.

Sherlock had settled himself comfortably on the couch, Toby curled up next to him purring loudly. He looked up as she walked in and smiled.

“So what is to be today's entertainment?” he said, as she sat across from him in the armchair. “Shall we hear more about Captain Wentworth and Miss Elliot?”

“If you like,” she said calmly, opening the book to where they had left off.

He smiled, he was enjoying the story, but he was far more interested in finding out specifically why it was Molly's favorite.

She read to him for several hours, pausing occasionally to get them drinks, but she wanted to make sure they got to her favorite part, and it was coming up.

He noticed a shift in her breath as she began, her tone changed as though she were reading a confession, and holding back tears.

_"I can listen no longer in silence. I must speak to you by such means_

_as are within my reach. You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half_ _hope._

_Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are_ _gone for ever._

_I offer myself to you again with a heart even more your_ _own than when you_

_almost broke it, eight years and a half ago. Dare_ _not say that man forgets_

_sooner than woman, that his love has an_ _earlier death. I have loved none_

_but you. Unjust I may have been,_ _weak and resentful I have been, but never_

_inconstant. You alone have_ _brought me to Bath. For you alone, I think and plan._

_Have you not_ _seen this? Can you fail to have understood my wishes? I had not_

_waited even these ten days, could I have read your feelings, as I think_ _you must_

_have penetrated mine. I can hardly write. I am every instant_ _hearing something_

_which overpowers me. You sink your voice, but I can_ _distinguish the tones of_

_that voice when they would be lost on others._ _Too good, too excellent creature!_

_You do us justice, indeed. You do_ _believe that there is true attachment and_

_constancy among men._

_Believe_ _it to be most fervent, most undeviating, in F. W._

_"I must go, uncertain of my fate; but I shall return hither, or follow_ _your party, as soon as possible. A word, a look, will be enough to_ _decide whether I enter your father's house this evening or never."*_

She placed the marker in the book, shakily breathing, tears falling down her cheeks. She dared not look at him, knowing she looked like a fool, crying over a book, crying over her feelings which were not returned.

He stood up quietly and moved to the side of her chair, “Molly,” he whispered.

She turned her head, keeping her eyes on her hands, attempting to make the tears stop.

He lifted her chin forcing her to look at him. She looked at him through her wet lashes, and gasped. She had expected to see pity in his eyes but instead she saw tenderness, affection and a touch of fear.

Cupping her face in his hands, he leaned forward, and captured her lips in a tender kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Persuasion by Jane Austen, I will reiterate if you haven't read this I highly recommend it, you can read it for free here http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/105 It is one of my favorite books of all time. (and I'm not just saying this because I have a Jane Austen tattoo =P)


	8. Why, why indeed?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aftermath of the kiss, date for the funeral set, John is not okay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my lovelies! Thank you for your patience while I unblocked myself a bit. I’ve been having some bad headaches lately and some stresses at home so I am incredibly grateful that you guys still want me to keep writing! So without further hesitation chapter 8! (and no in case anyone was wondering I have no clue how long this is going to end up being, I’ll just keep whittling away at it until it feels right).

She returned his kiss eagerly, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulled him closer.

He unwillingly broke the kiss with a grimace of pain, clutching his ribs, he leaned against the armchair.

“Oh God, Sherlock I'm sorry,” she helped him back to the couch, making sure to avoid his ribs. Running to the kitchen she grabbed an ice pack placing it gently on his side.

“Better?” she asked softly.

He nodded, eyes closed willing the pain away.

“Let me just grab you another pill,” she got up to leave, but was stopped by his hand on her wrist.

“Stay,” he murmured.

“Aa-Alright, I won't leave.” She sat on the floor next to the sofa, his hand still holding onto her.

“Sherlock....” she spoke quietly, afraid to broach the subject of what had just happened.

He opened his eyes and looked down at her, she was biting her lip with a worried expression on her face.

“Wh-why did you kiss me?” she blurted out before she lost her nerve.

“I don't know....” he cringed as the words left his mouth. Of course he knew but for the first time in his life he was having trouble putting something into words.

“I just knew at that moment that there was nothing I wanted more than to kiss you.”

She looked up in surprise, “yyyy-you wanted to...” She was interrupted by her phone.

“Hhh-hello?”

“Molly, its Greg.”

“Oh, hi Greg. What can I do for you?”

“John asked me to call and let you know he wants the funeral scheduled for Monday. He said you'd make the other arrangements, and he would have called but...”

“No I understand....How is he Greg?”

“Not good. I tried going over to check on him but he's just holed himself up there. Mrs. Hudson says he hasn't eaten a thing, and won't even talk to her.”

“Oh God, poor John...”

“Would you mind going by to see him today? Maybe seeing you would help?”

“Sure, of course. Yes I can do that.”

“Thanks Molly....How are you holding up?”

“I'm....I'm alright Greg...well not alright, but you know functioning...”

“I'm so sorry Molly, I know how you felt...”

“No, its fine....I'll head over in a bit and let you know later about him, okay?” she cut him off, she didn't want to hear the pity in his voice.

“Alright, take care of yourself.”

“You too.”

She hung up the phone and turned to look at Sherlock.

“I take it you heard?”

He nodded, of course John wasn't handling his death well, that was to be expected.

“Look I'm going to go by and check on him, see if I can't get him to go out and have a coffee or something,” she stated, waiting for any reaction from him. Not getting one she slipped on her shoes and coat and headed to the door.

She paused, turning to look at him, her hand on the lock, “When I get back though....” she trailed off, what was she supposed to say, she was shocked by both his kiss and admission, but they clearly needed to talk about it. He seemed just as confused as she was by his actions, so she needed to know where they stood.

He inclined his head in ascent and she headed out the door.

He sighed and steepled his fingers against his lips, closing his eyes he allowed himself to enter his mind palace, to make sense out of these feelings for Molly.


	9. Before I knew I had begun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Puzzling on feelings, Mind Palace, and flashbacks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay my readers, hope this makes up for the recent short chapters! Thank you all for sticking around and I hope you continue to enjoy it!

Molly walked in the direction of Baker Street, her thoughts running a mile a minute. Sherlock had kissed her....and wanted to kiss her....but why?

He already knew she would help him, he would gain nothing from using a kiss to manipulate her....unless....No that wasn't possible...surely he couldn't...but could he....She shook her head in an effort to gain some clarity.

Could it be that Sherlock Holmes had feelings for her? She smiled slowly, soon turning into a full-fledged grin. She felt like skipping, and singing....it was entirely possible that the man she had been in love with for years might in fact have feelings beyond friendship for her!

She wanted to tell somebody....anybody....and then she remembered, no one else knew he was alive...the grin slid from her face instantly.

“Well, shit...” she muttered aloud, “couldn't like the normal blokes could you Molly”

A passerby gave her an odd glance and a wide berth.

Molly rolled her eyes and sighed.

Right, she would deal with this when she got home, see what he had to say for himself. For now she had to help John, she needed to stay focused on the task at hand.

She straightened her shoulders and continued her trek with a strong step, John would need her to be the strong one.

 

He shuffled through the images in his mind, in the room marked “Molly,” trying to make sense of the jumble. He had filed away every single bit of information he knew about her in this room, nothing about her was ever deleted, just pushed to the back of his mind. Just like her he supposed, it was always there, never leaving, waiting patiently there for the moment it could be of use.

He remembered their first encounter vividly.

He was seated at the microscope examining some clothing fibers for a case when the door to the morgue opened.

Without looking up he noted, “You must be the new pathologist, Dr. Molly Hooper.”

He heard a gasp, “How did...you're not supposed to....who exactly are you?”

“Mike Stamford mentioned that they had just hired a pathologist, and since the morgue isn't exactly the area for social visits, I deduced it was you. As for your name, you'll notice it's written on the door to your office just over there, and since the lettering is fresh it could only be you Dr. Molly Hooper, Bart's newest pathologist.” Not once looking up to see her face, he continued to inspect the samples as though she wasn't even there.

“Okay...that was impressive.”

He looked up, “Do you really think so?”

The doctor was a petite, brunette young woman, with frankly appalling fashion sense, unmarried, living alone with a cat, and despite her friendly smile there was a touch of sadness in her eyes. He looked into her eyes, searching for any clues to the sadness there but found none. He gave her a slight smile noticing a slight hitch in her breathing, flush on her cheeks and a slight dilation of her pupils.

 _Interesting_.

“Ummm, well yes. Most people wouldn't notice those things.”

“Yes, well I'm not most people,” he stated. “Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective.”

“Consulting detective?”

“It means whenever the police are out of their depth - which is always - they consult me.”*

“Oh, right,” she smiled slightly. “So you're here pretty often then?”

“Quite. I'm here on a case at the moment, though when I'm not I do have several experiments I like to run.”

She raised her eyebrows at the word experiments, but smiled nevertheless. “Right, well if you need anything, let me know, anything...anything at all...” she nervously rambled.

He turned back to the microscope, aha there was the link. He whipped out his phone and texted Lestrade, “It was the daughter-in-law, same braiding in the fibers found on the victim as on her cloak.”

Grabbing his coat off the table he brushed past her on his way out, he turned back as he reached the door and smiled, “Pleasure to meet you Molly. Be seeing you.”

He heard what sounded like a muffled squeak as the door swung shut behind him.

Molly had more than proved her worth to him over the years, she had meant it when she had told him if he needed anything. He of course had noticed her attraction to him, and on more than one occasion he had exploited it for assistance in a case.

Pushing further through the room he searched deeper, trying to pinpoint exactly when he had begun to feel differently towards her. He supposed it had begun when she first brought around “Jim” from I.T., who of course was Moriarty, and was only using her to get close to him. But that night after “Jim” had left and he lay out all his deductions for her regarding him, the look of pain in her eyes cut him to the quick.

She always had appalling taste in men, and had thought that by pointing out his flaws he could save her the inevitable heartbreak that he knew was inevitable. But instead she looked at him with such hurt that he had to keep himself from running after her and explaining himself.

Then there was that bloody awful Christmas party, he cringed at the memory of that night. He hated that John had bullied him into having that party, he didn't do sentiment, or social, but John wouldn't let up so he reluctantly agreed. He was already in a terrible mood by the time she showed up so he was bound to say something terrible.

She had made quite the effort that night with her appearance, her dress proving that she did indeed have a figure underneath the baggy pants and awful sweaters, even John and Lestrade noticed. He thought she looked quite nice, and presumed that she was heading to another party later thus the dress, shoes and hair.

But for all his knowledge he could be splendidly ignorant, as John pointed out later that night. He knew she was attracted to him, he just hadn't realized how deep that attraction ran. For the first time in a long time he felt ashamed and unworthy of such attention.

“I am sorry...forgive me. Merry Christmas, Molly Hooper,”** he felt a slight tingle when he kissed her cheek. He saw John's jaw drop out of the corner of his eye, whether it was for the apology or the kiss he had no idea as both were unusual behavior from him.

And then that blasted phone went off, ruining the moment. A distraction, a puzzle to be solved, and once it was solved, it no longer had its intrigue. Yes he had saved The Woman from certain death, it was not sentiment that motivated him though. He would have been a fool to miss the chance to have her in his debt, it could prove to be quite useful in the future.

Then there was the other day, when she helped him die, at considerable risk to her profession and herself. She didn't hesitate, not once, and never asked for anything in return, she would do anything for him, and in that moment he knew she would be his saving grace.

He pulled himself from his mind palace, puzzling over his findings. It would seem that his feelings for Molly had grown over time, that he found himself in the middle before he knew he'd begun.+

 

**References**

* _A Study in Pink_

_**A Scandal in Belgravia_

_+_ attributed to _Pride & Prejudice _Jane Austen ``I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look, or the words, which laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I _had_ begun.'' (chapter 60)


	10. Not Okay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly's visit to Baker Street

She reached her hand and knocked on the door of 221, no answer. She tried a few more times before attempting the handle. It was unlocked, she opened the door slowly and slid inside.

“Hello, Mrs. Hudson? It's Molly....Molly Hooper?”

It would seem she had gone out.

“Right, Molly you can do this,” she took a deep breath in and headed up the stairs to 221B.

The door to the flat was wide open, she stepped tentatively in tapping on the door. “John? Are you in here?”

She turned to look at the fireplace, and saw John sitting in one of the armchairs, staring off into the distance.

“Oh John,” she took off her coat and headed over to him. She knelt beside the chair and took his hand.

He turned to look at her, and she flinched in pain at the look of sadness in his eyes. A hint of recognition crossed his face, “Molly....what are you....why are you here?”

“Greg called me,” she began.

“Right the service,” he muttered.

“Well yes, but he also told me that you aren't taking care of yourself,” she said pulling the computer chair over to sit in.

He gave her a puzzled look as she moved the chair, his glance flicking to the other chair...to _his_ chair. Realization dawned, of course she knew it was his chair, this was Molly. Molly who just like him had suffered a painful loss.

“Did he now?” he muttered.

“He's worried John, I am too,” her eyes flitting around the apartment, taking note of a half finished tea, and an apple that appeared half eaten and browning.

“Not here to tell me how everything will be okay. That your sorry?” he spat out bitterly.

She closed her eyes in pain and sighed. “No I'm not. I am sorry, but sorry doesn't fix things. And as for things being okay, they aren't and they won't be for a very long time. It hurts and it is terrible and it will never stop hurting,” she took in a shaky breath. “It will always be there, until one day you find you can bear it just slightly better than you did before. Believe me I know....”

He looked up at her, she had tears in her eyes, “I miss him too....you are...were his best friend, and the best way for me to deal with my grief is to make sure that you are taken care of.”

He reached out and held her hand squeezing it tightly. She smiled weakly at him, “Oh I'm terrible at this....here I am trying to help you and I end up a watery mess.” She dabbed her eyes with a tissue.

“No you have helped,” she looked up in surprise. “I know everyone does care, but you can only handle so many “sorry for your loss” comments before you want to tell them to shove their apologies and get bent. But your candidness is appreciated.”

“Anytime” she squeezed his arm and stood up. “Why don't you go take a shower, and we can go get a coffee and some fresh air, okay?”

He nodded, “Thank you Molly,” and he headed up to shower.

While cleaning the flat she discreetly slipped a few of Sherlock's personal belongings into her purse. Nothing noticeable of course, a few tools from his “lab” all interestingly stamped with “property of Bart's Morgue,” she shook her head and sighed. So that's where all her things kept “disappearing” to. She went into his room and grabbed his spare dressing gown and a few of his shirts. She knew he couldn't wear them out, but that didn't mean he couldn't have them for an air of familiarity. She was secretly thankful that she had brought her large purse with her, otherwise she'd never get these things out from under John's nose.

She contemplated taking his skull, but she knew John would notice it missing, besides he had Toby to talk to now. She finished packing her purse just as John came down the stairs, he looked a little better than he had earlier.

“Shall we?” she smiled at him. They headed down the stairs, she noticed him limping slightly, she cringed internally, 'Oh Sherlock we've broken him,' she thought.

They headed to the cafe around the corner, and at her insistence John ordered a coffee and a muffin. It wasn't much but it was a start. They sat at a corner table out of sight where they could talk and not be bothered.

“So....Monday?” she started awkwardly.

He cleared his throat, “Um, yeah. Listen you don't have to...”

“John, please let me. It won't be anything big I promise, just a discreet service, you, me, Greg, Mrs. Hudson and Mycroft.

He nodded slowly, “Thank you, really thank you Molly. I'm so lost right now....”

She took his hand, “I know you are. Anything you need you just let me know. Let me help, please.”

He smiled, “You really are an amazing woman Molly Hooper.”

It hurt her how easily John trusted her, she bit her tongue to keep from screaming out the truth, that she was a fraud and that he was alive. But Sherlock was depending on her, the lives of everyone depended on her keeping his secret.

They stayed there for another hour, wordlessly lending each other strength before leaving the cafe.

They parted at 221, Molly giving him a hug which John gratefully accepted.

“I'll see you Monday I guess,” he said.

She nodded, “I'll come get you then.”

He turned and limped into the flat, closing the door behind him. Molly let out a breath she hadn't known she was holding, and quickly headed back to her flat.

John was a mess, she didn't know how much she had helped, but at least she had gotten him showered and out of the flat.

She got to her place and unlocked the door, Toby eagerly greeting her, hoping to con an early lunch out of her. “Hello Toby. You would know if you read the clock, that lunch isn't for another hour.” He meowed grumpily, flicked his tail and padded back to his spot on the sofa next to Sherlock.

She looked at the man currently sprawled on her sofa and sighed. It'd be just like ripping a plaster off, do it quickly and it will all be over with soon.

She took a seat in her armchair and looked at him, waiting for him to say something. He turned to look at her, she'd been crying he noticed, and she was worrying her lip, she only did that when she was really nervous.

It became evident he wasn't going to say anything, so she took matters into her own hands.

“So....I guess we should talk.”


	11. Normal is Boring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> THE TALK!!!

She looked down at her hands, they were trembling slightly. She had just barely kept her sanity during coffee with John, lying to him was emotionally exhausting.

She had decided on her walk home that he had acted on an impulse built from the emotional and physical trauma of his fall and being cooped up inside with only her for company. She knew how much work there was to do, the last thing he needed was poor lovelorn Molly causing more problems.

She'd let him off the hook, let him know that she understood that it was a mistake, that she was a big girl and could take care of herself. 

She sighed, “Look, I understand.”

He looked at her with a puzzled expression.

“It's fine really, everyone makes mistakes. We'll just pretend it never happened....”

He frowned, what was she saying? He cleared his throat, “A mistake? Is that what you think?”

“I'm not saying I didn't enjoy it, but I'm not holding you too it. People react to stress in all different ways.”

“So you think I kissed you because I'm 'stressed' from the events of the other day?”

She didn't say anything, just stared at her hands.

He sighed, “Molly, look at me.” She raised her head, and looked at him, willing herself not to let any emotions show.

He moved to the end of the sofa, reached across and took her hand. “It was not a mistake. I don't make mistakes.”

She gasped, her hand still trembling under his touch.

“I'm not saying I understand what is happening, but I meant it the other night when I said that you've always counted.”

He moved his hand to her face, tracing his fingers across her cheek. “Whatever this is, hasn't just happened, it's always been there. I've just been a fool and ignored it.”

She leaned into his touch, letting his words wash over her. She had tried to give him an easy way out, but he continued to surprise her.

He softly kissed her lips, resting his forehead against hers. “Molly you are my strength. You've always been there for me, even when I didn't deserve it. You have never abandoned me, and I'm going to need your help now more than ever.”

She was floored by his confession. She had hoped for this moment, but never believed it to be possible. He had really meant it when he told her, “ _You do count. You've always counted..._ ”*

Not trusting herself to speak, she took a seat next to him on the sofa, interlocked their hands together and leaned her head on his shoulder.

He wrapped his arm around her, they sat comfortably in silence enjoying the closeness of each other.

He broke the silence, “Things aren't going to be easy.”

“They never are with you,” she smiled softly.

He chuckled wryly, “No I suppose not.” He ran his fingers lightly through her hair. “We won't be able to do anything normal people do until this is all over.”

“Normal is boring,” she murmured, relaxing further into him. “Why have normal when I can have you?”

Would she ever cease to amaze him? He opened his mouth to respond, but realized that she had fallen asleep.

He smiled continuing to stroke her hair, and reached for the book Molly had been reading to him, he opened it to where they had left off earlier. He was curious to see how it ended.

 

* _The Reichenbach Fall_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apologies for the shortness of the chapter, I was having trouble with this one, not quite sure why, don't worry there will be longer ones coming!


	12. Safe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Impromptu performance, lunch, and funeral arrangements.

Molly slowly opened her eyes, blinking a few times to wake herself up. She looked up and smiled, Sherlock had fallen asleep as well. She slowly slid from his arms, trying not to wake him.

She tucked a pillow behind his head, and noticed _Persuasion_ on the arm of the sofa, the bookmark on top of it. She grinned, and headed to the kitchen to feed a very grumpy Toby.

Sherlock opened his eyes, he looked around for Molly, and heard her voice in the kitchen.

“I'm sorry my poor starving kitty, I didn't mean to neglect you...” she cooed sarcastically as Toby frantically twined himself between her legs, yowling for his lunch.

She rolled her eyes and put her headphones on to listen to her iPod, as she prepared some sandwiches. She didn't know how much longer Sherlock would be asleep but figured the sandwiches would keep in the fridge till he was hungry.

He smiled thinking how for the first time in his life he felt completely comfortable with a person. He was comfortable with John, Lestrade, and Mrs. Hudson, but not quite like this. The closest he came to feeling this comfortable was when he was playing his violin.

He heard what sounded like singing coming from the kitchen, he slowly got up to investigate. Sure enough Molly was completely focused on making lunch and had her headphones in, singing along to her music.

_“I open the window and I gaze into the night_   
_But there's nothing there to see, no one in sight_   
  
_There's not a soul out there_   
_No one to hear my prayer_   
  
_Gimme gimme gimme a man after midnight_   
_Won't somebody help me chase the shadows away_   
_Gimme gimme gimme a man after midnight_   
_Take me through the darkness to the break of the day”*_

She squeaked as she felt a pair of arms encircle her waist, “Oh Sherlock! I didn't wake you did I?”

He chuckled, “No, I was already awake.”

She blushed, embarrassed at being caught singing. “I'm just making sandwiches for us....if that's alright?”

He nodded, giving her a kiss on the top of her head before seating himself at the table.

“So I managed to get John to leave the flat,” she said turning back to their lunches. “And for that matter to shower,” she said wrinkling her nose.

“He's going to be okay....It'll take time, but I think today was a step in the right direction,” she turned a smiled at him.

“Oh and I managed to smuggle a few things of yours out while he was in the shower. Just a few odds and ends, some shirts and your toiletries. No skull or violin though, thought those might be obvious, not to mention they wouldn't fit in my purse.”

He grinned at her cleverness, he hadn't even thought of her sneaking some of his things out. “Thank you, Molly.”

She shrugged, “Just because you're trapped here with me, doesn't mean you can't be comfortable. There you go,” she set down his plate in front of him.

He stopped her with his hand, “I don't feel trapped here with you....I feel safe....”

She leaned in and kissed him, “Careful, a girl could get used to hearing things like that.” She smiled and sat in her chair, his hand still holding her's.

After lunch, Molly grabbed her bag and let Sherlock see what she had abducted from 221B. She grinned as he put on his dressing gown immediately.

While he was busy, she made the necessary phone calls for the “funeral” arrangements, and phoned the others to let them know the time and place. She was not looking forward to facing everyone in two days.

She was thankful that Bart's had called that first day and told her to take as much time off as she needed. There was no way she could have survived this week, even knowing the truth, knowing made it twice as hard.

After she finished her calls she returned to the living room to find Toby curled up on the pile of Sherlock's shirts, with Sherlock petting him distractedly.

“Toby get off those!” he raised his head and glared at her, before settling back down.

“Leave him Molly. They're only clothes,” he said patting the seat next to him.

“Well I've made all the arrangements for your 'service' on Monday. Small just as we planned,” she sighed, collapsing next to him.

He nodded, the fewer people there the less pressure on Molly, not that he thought she'd ruin the plan, but he didn't want her to be racked with guilt from lying to more than was necessary.

He kissed her on the forehead, “What would I do without you?”

She smiled, “Lucky for you, you don't have to find out.”

 

*”Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! (A Man After Midnight)” ABBA

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the record I don't own ABBA or their music either.


	13. My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The funeral

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for being patient while I worked on this bit. This was exceptionally hard, and I found myself crying a few times as I wrote it. 
> 
> The title for this chapter comes from John Keats' "Ode to a Nightingale," one of my favorite poets/poems, I thought it was a good description for how Molly would be feeling during the funeral. (here's a link to listen to it done by Benedict http://youtu.be/TdphtMWjies) (neither the poem or the video are mine)

Monday came far too soon for both Molly and Sherlock. They had spent the rest of the weekend becoming more comfortable with each other and their new relationship. 

She was pleasantly surprised by how at ease Sherlock seemed to truly be around her, she had rarely seen him so relaxed. Despite the events that brought them together, she had seen him smile and laugh more and it was a beautiful sight.

It was as though everything had stopped around them, giving them the chance to enjoy their fleeting moments together. Molly knew in her heart that these moments would be rare, he had a job to do, and she had her's. But she also knew that she had waited five years for him, and would wait an eternity more if she had to.

She pulled her dress and shoes out of the closet and began working on her hair, leaving it loose but adding a bit of spray to keep it in place. She applied some light makeup, and slid into her black dress and heels, before grabbing her purse and heading into the living room.

“Right, okay. So I'm off to get John and then go to the service,” she said, tossing her keys and phone into her purse before glancing at Sherlock.

“Will you be okay? I know you're feeling much better, but your ribs are still going to be sore, so don't strain yourself. I left you some lunch in the fridge, I have my phone...” she rambled on not making eye contact with him.

“Molly,” he interrupted. “I'll be fine. You can do this,” he stood up and held her hands in his to keep her from fidgeting. “You know the truth, and you know how important it is, which is how I know you'll be fine.” 

She sighed heavily, and leaned her head against his chest. “I know, I'm just nervous I'll slip up.”  


He kissed her forehead and wrapped his arms around her, “You won't, I believe in you.”

She pulled back and kissed him quickly on the lips, the sooner she left the sooner she could come home and it would be over.

“I'll see you when I get back. Want me to grab anything for dinner?”

“Whatever you want to get is fine.”

She gave him another peck on the lips goodbye and headed out the door. She signaled for a taxi and headed to Baker Street, quietly praying for the strength to make it through today.

When she arrived there was already a large black car parked outside, puzzled she paid the cabbie and walked towards the door.

She rang the bell, and Mrs. Hudson answered.

“Hello Molly dear,” she smiled sadly clutching a handkerchief in her hand.

“Hello Mrs. Hudson,” Molly gave her a hug. “Is John upstairs and ready?” 

“He's up there with Mycroft.”

Molly raised her eyebrows, that explained the black car. “Mycroft's here? I thought we were meeting him at the service?”

“I don't know dearie. Why don't you go and see what's going on.”

Molly climbed the stairs with trepidation, she hadn't seen Mycroft since that Christmas when Sherlock came in to identify that woman's body. They had hardly spoken but his presence was intimidating and the last thing she needed today was to feel intimidated.

She walked into the flat to find both of them sitting silently and glaring at one another.

John looked up as she walked in, “Hello Molly.”

“Hi John. Hello Mycroft, I had thought we would meet you there,” she said coolly, taking note that John was clearly agitated by his presence.

“Ah Dr. Hooper,” he said rising from his seat. “I came to offer my services as an escort, easier if we all arrive together.”

She nodded, it made sense, though she couldn't help the niggling of suspicion as to his real reasons for being there. 

She glanced at John, at least he had managed to get himself dressed and showered today, but she could see that he hadn't slept much since she saw him last. 

She could see that he was anxious to leave so without a word she handed him his jacket. He took it gratefully and headed out the door.

They all piled into the Mycroft's car, his assistant already inside texting away on her mobile, not even glancing up to acknowledge them.

The ride to the cemetery was one of tense silence, each person dreading their arrival. When they arrived Lestrade was waiting for them. He helped Mrs. Hudson from the car, and wordlessly wrapped Molly in a hug.

They slowly made their way over to the graveside, each step bringing them closer to the moment they were dreading. 

They stood quietly around, no one saying anything until John cleared his throat.

“Thank you, everyone for coming today,” he took a shuddering breath. “Sherlock was my best friend. He could be an arse at times, but he was a good man. You were all people he trusted and cared about....and now that he's...” John's voice broke, Molly squeezed his hand, tears forming in her eyes.

John's shoulders shook silently tears streaming down his cheeks, as he buried his face in Molly's shoulder. She wrapped a her arm around him, tears streaming down her own face, rubbing soothing circles on his back as he let all the pain and frustration out. 

After a while John pulled away from Molly, smiling weakly at her. Mycroft nodded at the attendants and they lowered the coffin into the ground, as John, Greg and Mrs. Hudson walked away.

Molly felt her heart clench as she watched the stranger's coffin be lowered down. She knew the truth, but it didn't make it any less painful to see his name on a headstone with a coffin underneath it. 

She took a deep breath and turned towards the car. Out of the corner of her eye she thought she saw something move by the trees, but when she turned to look it was gone. She dismissed it, thinking her mind was playing tricks on her.

She gave Greg a hug goodbye, promising to call him if she needed him, and they began the drive back to Baker Street.

“John do you need me to stay with you?” Molly asked, her voice awkwardly loud in the silent car.

He shook his head, “Thanks Molly, but I just want to be alone right now.” She nodded, she understood even if she didn't think it was the best idea.

When they arrived John gave Molly a hug and thanked her for everything, and helped Mrs. Hudson from the car.

Molly moved to leave as well when Mycroft's voice stopped her.

“Do shut the door Dr. Hooper. I believe there are some matters we should discuss...”


	14. It would take Sherlock Holmes to fool me*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft knows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for your patience and support while I dealt with my family crisis. I'm so glad you are all still reading and enjoying, so without further ado here's the next installment!

'Shit,' Molly thought as she closed the car door, she had hoped to avoid Mycroft's questions. Schooling her face into a look of confusion she looked at him.

“Dr. Hooper, I appreciate what you've done for my brother,” he began.

“What do you mean? The funeral? That was to take the burden off John.”  


Mycroft looked down his nose at her, “That's not what I meant, Dr. Hooper.”

“Molly, please. Dr. Hooper makes me feel as though I'm in trouble,” she attempted a small smile.

“Well that depends...Molly. How long do you intend to let my brother stay at your flat?”

She swallowed nervously, attempting to remain calm, “Wh-what? Sherlock's dead. We just buried him, and if this is your idea of a sick joke!”

Mycroft interrupted her, “Come come now, Dr.-Molly. Do you take me for a fool? I know you did the autopsy, and had the body removed almost immediately. It is customary for bodies to remain in the morgue for 24 hours at least, rather convenient that within hours of his death the autopsy and paperwork were completed and the body gone, wouldn't you say?”

“I-I, er...I didn't want the press involved. I thought the quicker I finished the easier it would be for everyone.”

“Hmm, yes. And then there's the matter of you handling all the funeral arrangements.”

“I was trying to be a good friend, making things easier for John!” she snapped, uncomfortable with how close Mycroft was to the truth.

A chime on her phone interrupted her. She glanced down, there was an email waiting for her. She opened it, not caring what it was, looking for any excuse to stop Mycroft's inquisition. She didn't recognize the sender.

_Invite him in for tea, there's no use pretending. Tell him you have cake._

_S_

Well clearly he had figured out her laptop password, she rolled her eyes.  She glanced up quickly, Mycroft was looking smug, as though he knew who had sent the e-mail. She sighed typing a response.

_I tried to dissuade him, but he was insistent. I'm sorry._

_Molly xx_

They pulled to a stop in front of Molly's building. 

“Would you like to come in for tea?”

“Yes I do believe I will,” he smiled, looking like the cat who caught the canary.

Molly opened the door and got out, taking in a deep breath, she set her shoulders and opened the door to her flat.

Mycroft followed, closing the door behind him.

“Take a seat. I'll get the water started.” She glanced around for Sherlock, pausing to scratch Toby's head as he looked up from his usual perch on the sofa.

She went into the kitchen and started the water, and sighed leaning against the counter. How was she going to be able to lie to everyone when she managed to already make a mess of things with Mycroft?

Sherlock walked into the kitchen to find Molly leaning against the counter, worrying her lip. He kissed her on the cheek, giving her a small smile.

“Molly its okay. Of course Mycroft figured things out, he _is_ my brother after all,” he put his arms around her. “You're doing fine, you've been brilliant with John and everyone. And Mycroft can help both of us.”

She nodded and backed away as the kettle whistled. He helped her carry the set into the living room, where Mycroft was sitting, locked in a staring contest with Toby.

“Well, brother dear, how long did it take you to figure out?” Sherlock took a seat on the sofa, petting Toby, who purred immediately.

“Not long. I realized it the moment I knew that it was _your_ pathologist who performed the autopsy. Really Sherlock, you're slipping.” Mycroft grinned and accepted his tea from Molly.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and sighed, “Molly is the only competent pathologist at Barts, so of course she did “my” autopsy.”

“What will you do now that you are no longer amongst the living?” 

“I'm going to take down Moriarty's network, piece by piece.”

“And you intend to do this entirely on your own? Foolish as always,” Mycroft shook his head.

“I do have connections apart from you, you know,” Sherlock snapped.

“Oh yes, your 'network,' charming.”

Molly sat uncomfortably on the sofa, watching them. It was fascinating to see two brilliant men snipping at one another like school children.

“Are you offering to help? Because I managed to fake my death without your help!”

Molly rolled her eyes, this needed to stop. “Boys,” she warned, looking between the two of them.

Sherlock sighed dramatically, “Fine. Mycroft, if you want to help....it would be appreciated.” He muttered the last part, not looking at him.

Mycroft smiled, “Of course I'll help you. Can't have you running off and making a mess of things can I?”

Molly sighed exasperatedly, “Thank you Mycroft,” she glanced pointedly at Sherlock, he rolled his eyes.

“Yes, thank you.” 

“Good,” Mycroft stood up to leave.

“You're going?” Molly jumped up surprised, “Shouldn't we, I don't know talk about things?”

Mycroft raised his eyebrows and glanced at his brother. “I'll be in touch soon. As it is my brother still needs to heal before we can make plans.” He headed towards the door, stopping with his hand on the knob, “Also he has probably worn himself out from his visit to the cemetery and back....Good day Molly....Sherlock” he inclined his head at his brother.

Sherlock glared daggers at his brother's retreating from. Molly turned to look at him and he paled. Her arms were crossed and her face deceptively calm, “Something you'd like to tell me?” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Chapter title is taken from "A Scandal in Belgravia"


	15. Red hair, sir, in my opinion, is dangerous.*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time for a new look!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your patience and comments while I've been busy with work and then of course injuring myself (while it was helpful inspiration it doesn't make it any less painful)

Molly was furious, was he a complete idiot? “What the hell possessed you to do something so stupid? She hissed.

“You could have hurt yourself, not to mention you risked everything!” she started pacing as she continued to berate him. 

“I'm not an idiot Molly. I wore a disguise,” he rolled his eyes, she was overreacting.

“Oh well then that makes everything okay then,” her voice dripping with sarcasm. She threw her hands up in exasperation and stormed into the kitchen.

She banged open the drawers searching for her wine glass, finding it she poured herself a large glass of wine. She took a large drink and let out a shaky breath. Having composed herself slightly she returned to the living room.

Sherlock raised his eyebrows at the glass of wine but wisely kept his mouth shut. She was already angry with him, best not make it worse.

“I'm sure you had a reason for going,” Molly glanced at him, her voice slightly calmer.

He nodded, “I just needed to know that everyone was safe,” he winced at how maudlin that sounded. But it was true, the snipers may have been called off once he jumped but that didn't mean that things were safe.

Molly idly ran her finger around the rim of her glass, it made sense, she knew that they were are still in danger, especially if word got out that Sherlock was in fact still alive.

She sighed, “I thought I might have seen you there.”

He looked at her with a slightly shocked expression. Mycroft he knew saw him, but he thought he'd hidden well enough that no one else could see him.

She snorted as she took a sip, “Don't look so shocked. To be fair I didn't know it was you, it was just a glance.”

She glanced idly at his brown curls and frowned. He followed her gaze and sheepishly smiled, patting his wild curls, he still had a bit of hat hair from the cap he had worn as part of his disguise.

Gesturing at his hair she sighed, “You know we're going to have to do something about that. Play around with the dyes I bought, your hair is far to recognizable.”

He realized this was her way of changing the subject, he knew she was worried about him and that's why she was so angry about him being at the cemetery.

He smiled, “No time like the present then,” he stood offering his hand to her.

Molly nearly choked on her wine. She hadn't meant right at that moment, to be honest she wasn't looking forward to him losing his beautiful curly dark hair. She sighed and set her glass down, guiding him to the bathroom.

She pulled out the various colors she had bought and began looking for her scissors in her bedroom.

Sherlock sat on the toilet looking through the colors she had bought, a couple shades of blonde, some ginger, and a few light brunettes. He selected one of the ginger colors and waited for Molly to return.

She came back with scissors and towels in her arms, ready to begin the transformation.

She set them down on the sink and looked him in the eyes. He tilted his head puzzled at her expression.

She leaned in and kissed him, hands sinking into the familiar curls. He was surprised at first, but not unpleasantly so. He returned her kiss eagerly, enjoying the feel of her fingers in his hair.

She pulled back smiling, a faint blush on her cheeks. He leaned his head against her chest, “What was that for?”

“I was saying goodbye to your lovely dark curls,” she giggled sheepishly.

He rolled his eyes, “I should have known you were only after me for my lovely locks.”

“Alright that's it mister. Off with the shirt.”

He smirked, “I didn't know this was part of the process for hair dying. Clearly I've been missing out.”

She swatted his knee, “Behave or I'll shave your head!” She moved her hands towards his hair mockingly.

He grabbed her arms and pinned them between them, bringing his face close to her's.

“You wouldn't dare,” he growled playfully.

“Don't tempt me!” she squirmed, flushing from his close proximity.

He kissed her on the tip of her nose and let her hands go, moving to remove his shirt.

Molly looked appraising at his chest, admiring the leanness of it, she winced at the bruising she saw on his ribs.

He noticed her wince, “They're fine Molly. I'm healing much quicker than I thought.”

She nodded and wrapped a towel around his shoulders, setting to work on cutting his hair.

Soon her bathroom floor was covered in dark curls. 

“You've got more hair than I do!” she exclaimed.

“Comes in curly and thick, why do you think I don't bother to do anything with it?”

She shrugged, honestly she hadn't given it much thought, well other than what it would feel like to run her fingers through it.

“There!” she took the towel off his shoulders and stepped away to let him look in the mirror.

He still had a slight curl to his hair, that never went away, but it was considerably shorter and much lighter. She had layered it and left a tiny bit of length on the nape of his neck.

He smiled at her as she swept his hair from the floor.

“Alright did you pick a color?” she asked, flushing the last of his hair, couldn't throw it in the bin, didn't want to leave any signs of him being there.

He handed her the box and sat down again. He relaxed into her hands as she put the dye in his hair, the repetitive motion soothing him. 

She told him about the funeral while she worked. He had observed but wasn't close enough to hear what had been said. He was worried about John, but Molly reassured him that she would take care of John.

“Done!” she exclaimed, peeling off her gloves as she tossed the stuff away. “Now you just have to wait 20 minutes.”

Sherlock followed her into the kitchen to watch her while she made dinner preparations. He enjoyed watching her cook, she was confident in the kitchen, employing the same manner she did when she was performing an autopsy.

She finished her preparations and put the stew on to cook. It'd be a while before it cooked and they still needed to finish his hair.

She walked into the bathroom and turned on the shower. She pulled the shower head down and gestured for Sherlock to kneel with his head over the tub.

She rinsed the dye out of his hair, watching as her tub became orange. He barely moved while she washed his hair, thrilling in the feel of her nails on his scalp. He shifted uncomfortably as her breasts brushed against his back, trying to hide his arousal.

Molly smirked, and shut off the water. She grabbed a towel and began to dry his hair by hand, making sure to brush her body against his as she did so.

He growled turning around and pulling her against him. She was flushed from the steam in the bathroom, her lips forming a grin as she realized that he'd had enough of her teasing. A few sweet kisses had satisfied him earlier, but now with her pressed against him he needed more.

She pressed herself further into him and he groaned before grabbing her mouth in a bruising kiss.

 

*Title is taken from _Very Good, Jeeves!_ P.G. Wodehouse


	16. Touch-a ,Touch-a, Touch-a, Touch Me!  I Want To Be Dirty*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smut pure unadulterated smut. You've been warned!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay please be gentle I haven't actually written any smut scenes before, this is my first one, so I do apologize in advance!

She gasped as she felt his tongue along her lips demanding entrance, her hands finding their way into his shortened locks, pulling him closer.

He moaned as she pulled his hair, pressing her against the sink running his hands along her sides, making her shiver with arousal. He slowly worked his way down her neck alternating between kisses and bites. She made the most delightfully loud moan when he used his teeth, he smirked and filed that away for future reference.

His began to unbutton her pants when her hands stopped him. Confused he looked up at her, didn't she want this? Judging from her bodies reactions she was just as eager as he so why had she stopped him.

She took him by the hand and led him to her bedroom, pushing him onto the bed and straddling him.

“Much better,” she smiled nibbling on his oh so elegant neck that had been torturing her for years. “Bed is much more comfortable than the bathroom.” She smirked as understanding dawned in his eyes, and slid her way down his body. 

He moved to help her with his pants but she smacked his hands away, scolding him. He grinned and tried to look contrite.

She made quick work of his pants, caressing his hips as she lay him bare before her. She inhaled sharply, by God he was a work of art. She always imagined he was but her fantasies had not done him justice.

Molly raked her hungry gaze along his body, wetting her lips as she stared at his erection. His eyes darkened as he watched her tongue dart out and felt his cock twitch with anticipation.

She knelt in front of him, slowly wrapping her lips around his head, causing him to jerk at the sensation and groan. She smirked, swirling her tongue along his length, taking him deeper into her mouth.

His fingers grabbed hold of her ponytail urging her to continue, her lips he had once called small fit around him perfectly and hid quite talented tongue!

“Molly,” he moaned, forcing himself to pull her away. His cock slid out of her mouth with an audible pop and he sat up.

“I was enjoying myself,” she pouted her soaked knickers evidence of her arousal.

“There's always time for that later,” he chuckled. “But at the moment Dr. Hooper you are wearing far to many clothes!”

She grinned and pulled her shirt over her head and unclasped her bra, unceremoniously throwing them into an unknown corner of the room.

He lifted his hands to her breasts, using his thumb across her already hard nipples, she gasped. He lowered his mouth to one, taking it in his mouth, running his tongue against it as she arched into him moaning for more. He took her nipple in between his teeth and bit tenderly as she moaned louder this time, gripping his head against her breast.

He laved the same attention on her other breast, pausing in his attentions to tweak both nipples as his hands dipped lower.

He rolled her onto the bed and kissed his way down her stomach, his elegant fingers slowly undoing the buttons on her jeans. She raised her hips eagerly as he pulled off her jeans, thankful that she had worn a semi-attractive pair of underwear instead of the laundry day ones she had intended to wear earlier.

He kissed along her thighs, he could smell her arousal through the fabric, it was intoxicating. He grinned and brushed a finger against her clothed mound as she writhed and moaned at his teasing fingers. 

He hooked his fingers into her underwear and quickly pulled them off exposing her dripping pussy to him. He grinned as he spread her lips with his fingers, he couldn't resist the desire to taste her. He lowered his head and began a slow swipe, groaning at the taste of her. She tasted of heat, woman but most of all she tasted uniquely of Molly. Her hips bucked against his face as he continued to worship her with his tongue.

“Unn, Oh God, Sherlock!” she cried as he bit gently on her clit, she needed him inside her now! She yanked him on top of her, pressing her mouth against his, each one tasting themselves on the other.

He pulled back and murmured, “You're still on the pill correct?”

“Yes,” she gasped, “last test came back clean. You?”

He nodded, unable to form words as she nibbled on his earlobe.

She pushed him against the pillows and straddled him, knowing it would be easier on his ribs.

She positioned him against her and in one swift motion he was inside her, filling her completely. They both moaned at the sensation. She slowly began to move her hips, flipping her hair back as she sat tall and rode him.

He grasped her hips, guiding her as she fucked him, her breasts bouncing delightfully as she increased her pace.

“I don't think I'm going to...” she panted as she rolled her hips against him, nearing the edge.

He swiftly flipped them over, never breaking contact and drove himself into her. Pounding into her hard enough to make the bed squeak.

“Ah, ah, oh God,” she shrieked as she climaxed, her walls continuing to pump him. He thrust a few more times before letting out a shout as he came.

He rolled off her panting, unable to form words he pulled her close to him and kissed her forehead, before closing his eyes to sleep.

She snuggled into his arms and let out a sigh of contentment before sleep overcame her as well.

 

*Title taken from _Rocky Horror Picture Show_ song


	17. I'd give the world to stay just as we are

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morning after, returning to routines.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the lateness of this chapter. For the past two weeks I've had very full work schedules (6 days in a row, 8 hour shifts) so I haven't had much of a chance to work on this. So much love to all of you and thank you for the fabulous reviews!!! Title is taken from "You and I" from Chess the Musical.

Toby was not pleased. His breakfast was late and he had been forced to sleep at the bottom of the bed instead of curled up between Molly's legs. It was all Sherlock's fault, he'd twined himself around Molly making it impossible for Toby to be comfortable. He glared at the sleeping man, sure he appreciated the petting, and the way he spoke to him, but that didn't mean he could steal his sleeping spot!

He stretched and headed towards the side where Molly was sleeping. He nuzzled his face into her hand trying to wake her up. She shifted slightly but didn't open her eyes. Determined to wake her Toby pushed his face against her's, his nose bumping her lips while his whiskers tickled her cheeks.

Molly sighed and opened her eyes knowing exactly what was waking her up. She smiled at the blatant antics of her cat.

Having succeeded in awaking his mistress he jumped off the bed and padded towards the door, glancing back to see if she was going to feed him.

Molly turned her head slightly to see Sherlock still asleep. She grinned as she took in his sleeping form her thoughts returning to the previous night.

Toby impatiently rubbed himself against the door frame, and Molly knew if she didn't feed him now he'd start yowling and wake Sherlock. She slipped out from his arms carefully, silently laughing at the muffled moan at the loss of her warmth.

She pulled a t-shirt and underwear out of a drawer and put it on before gesturing to Toby to lead the way to the kitchen.

Having fed her drama queen, Molly ran her hand through her hair and turned on her coffee maker. She yawned, thankful that she had the late shift that day.

The smell of coffee wafted through the kitchen and with it brought a sleepy Sherlock out of the bedroom, clothed in only a sheet.

“Morning sleepy head,” Molly sang passing him a mug.

He gratefully clasped the mug and sat at the table. Molly turned back to the stove to finish the eggs she had started while waiting for the coffee to brew.

He enjoyed the view of her bare legs and barely covered bum moving about while serving up breakfast. Molly turned to bring the plates to the table and caught him staring unabashedly at her bum, she raised her eyebrows and he smirked.

She set a plate in front of him kissing his cheek before taking a seat next to him grinning.

“I've got work later today,” Molly started taking a sip of her coffee.

Sherlock nodded, he knew she'd have to go back eventually.

“It'll be nice to get back to work. I'm just worried about having to deal with everyone there,” she confessed, biting her lip worriedly.

He opened his mouth to respond when they were interrupted by the phone ringing.

Molly sighed and went to answer it.

“Hello.”

“Dr. Hooper,” a familiar voice intoned.

“Mycroft,” Sherlock was by her side at once.

“Apologies for interrupting breakfast, but if I might speak to my troublesome brother?”

“How did—never mind, hold on,” she handed Sherlock the phone and headed for the shower.

“Mycroft.”

“And a good morning to you brother.”

“Why are you calling?”

“I thought that you had asked for my help. Though I imagine it slipped your mind what with giving into your baser desires.”

Sherlock growled, “I appreciate your concern, _brother dear_ , but that's really none of your business.”

“No I'm just reminding you to not let your _sentiment_ get in the way of your job.”

“Mycroft, if you ever refer to my relationship with Molly in such a tone again, brother or not I will not be responsible for my actions.”

He could hear Mycroft clearing his throat, flustered by the vehemence in his brother's voice.

“I'll send a taxi for you at 3,” returning to his original reason for calling.

“Fine,” Sherlock slammed down the phone and closed his eyes willing himself to be calm.

Molly came out of the bathroom at the noise, “Everything alright?”

He opened his eyes and took in the sight of a freshly showered Molly in nothing but her bathrobe.

“What time did you say you had work?” he asked walking towards her.

“I didn't but not until 2, why?” she looked confused at his question.

He grinned, “Plenty of time then.”

“Plenty of time for...” she was cut off by his lips against her's.

She felt his fingers pull at her towel, tossing it to the floor.

“Much better,” he mumbled, pulling her back towards the bedroom.


	18. Come Back To Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We knew it was coming, the last night before Sherlock leaves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh I always feel like I'm making excuses here but I am so sorry it took me so long to update. It's been insane here between work and school and then a debilitating case of writer's block! So thank you as always for your patience and reviews! I love you all!

The next few days passed in a comfortable routine. Molly would go to work and while she was working Sherlock would leave to work with Mycroft. She'd pick up take away on the way home, neither of them having the energy to cook.

Sometimes he was already home by the time she got there, and others she didn't know he was home until she felt him slide into bed beside her. The later the nights became the sooner she knew he'd be leaving her.

Work had been surprisingly easy for her, granted working in the morgue did mean a distinct lack of visitors asking questions. Her first day back Mike Stamford had given her a hug and the left her to her work. Since then she'd had almost no interaction with people.

She'd given up eating in the cafeteria after she had spent an uncomfortable lunch alone with several people staring and whispering. The less she had to interact with people the better, that meant fewer lies, so she let her silence speak for itself.

She opened the door surprised to find both Sherlock and Mycroft seated in her living room. They looked up as she came in, a thin smile on Mycroft's lips as he began to collect his things.

“Well, I'll just leave you to it shall I?” he said to Sherlock. “Dr. Hooper,” he nodded before leaving.

Molly stood there looking at Sherlock, waiting for him to say something. After a few moments she sighed and headed to the kitchen. She assumed he was processing whatever he and Mycroft had discussed. She had an inkling of what it had been about, but she'd let him tell her in his own time.

She dished the food onto plates and brought them into the living room, placing one on the coffee table in front of Sherlock. She curled herself up on the end of the sofa and turned on the TV, looking for something mindless that wouldn't require much thought.

She felt his hand still her's on the remote, turning off the TV and moving her plate out of her other. He pulled her close to him, his arms wrapped around her, his chin resting on her head.

She relaxed into his embrace, humming contently as he placed a kiss on her forehead. She looked up at him, still in awe that he was here with her. They sat there for some time before he spoke.

“I'm leaving soon.”

Molly nodded, she had figured that was what was bothering him. He'd healed rather nicely over the recent days, mainly due to the resources Mycroft had at his disposal. He wasn't completely healed, but was well enough to begin his mission.

“How soon?” she already knew the answer of course, but she needed to hear him say it.

“Tomorrow,” he tightened his hold on her, as if to never let her go.

“Hey, look at me,” she lifted his chin to look him in the eyes. “We knew this would happen. You have a job to do. And as much as I'd like to keep you all to myself, I can't do that. The sooner you finish your work the sooner you can come home to me.”

She pecked him softly on the lips and smiled at the surprise on his face.

“You never cease to amaze me,” he said his voice filled with wonder at how calmly she was taking the news.

He lifted her off the couch and quickly carried her to the bedroom, laying them down on the bed.

She watched through hooded eyes as he undid her pants using his teeth. She moaned as she felt his breath against her, bucking her hips towards him.

He chuckled at her eagerness as he removed her pants, leaving her clad in only her underwear and bra.

He stood drinking in the picture of her, splayed out on the bed, skin flushed with desire, for him.

“Mine,” he thought, something primal clicking inside him. He quickly removed his clothing and the remainder of her's before pulling her to him

He frantically kissed her, sucking her lower lip into his mouth as she moaned. He kissed his way down her neck, marking her with his teeth. She let out a delightful shriek as he bit her, bucking her hips against his. He pulled back pleased that it would leave a visible mark, she was his.

He lowered his fingers, smirking as he found her completely soaked, all for him. He teased her entrance with his cock, before entering her. He moved slowly, sensually at first, wanting to prolong the inevitable. But his body soon took over and he was quickly thrusting into her, as she raked her fingernails down his chest.

Sherlock came with a cry, his own orgasm triggering Molly's as she felt him cum insider her. He lay on top of her for a moment, listening to her heart racing along with his. He pulled himself out eliciting a whimper from her at the loss of him.

He rolled over and lay on the bed next to her, pulling her against him tightly, whispering “mine.” She grinned and replied, “always.” They remained a tangle of limbs, neither wanting to let the other go as sleep slowly claimed them.

Molly woke with Sherlock's arms wrapped tightly around her, as though holding on for dear life. She smiled sadly knowing this would be the last time she woke up like this for a long time. She sighed and relaxed into his embrace, enjoying this last moment while she could.

The alarm sounded a few minutes later and she groaned, reaching over to stop its incessant shrieking. Sherlock rolled out of bed and stretched. He turned and glanced at Molly curled up in the bed, the sheet only half covering her naked body. He was looking at her as though attempting to memorize everything about her in that moment.

She blushed as his eyes trailed along her body. He shook his head as though to clear the cobwebs of sleep and headed to the bathroom for a shower.

They didn't say anything to each other as they got ready, knowing that trying to speak would be too painful for either of them.

He packed everything she'd bought him up, and stood up as he saw the taxi through the window.

“You will come back to me, do you understand?” she held back the tears, she'd have plenty of time to cry after he was gone.

He nodded.

“Say it, say you promise me,” her voice was shaking.

“I promise I will come home to you Molly Hooper,” he gave her a lingering kiss goodbye and walked out the door.

As soon as the door clicked closed she fell to the floor sobbing. She'd held herself together over the past week because she knew he'd be there when she came home, but now he was truly gone and she had no idea when she'd see him again. It was as though he had died all over again, taking her heart with him this time.


	19. Without You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been almost a year since Sherlock left Molly's flat. 
> 
> Warning: Thoughts of a suicidal nature

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for sticking with me so far. I apologize for the lack of updates but real life gets in the way and I've had some major writer's block as of late. So I appreciate all your support and reviews and I hope you enjoy!

It had been nearly a year since she had last seen him, since she had made him promise to come back to her.

She knew he was still alive, Mycroft kept her informed of that much at least. They had decided for her safety and his that it was best she didn't know the details of where he was and what he was doing. However, Mycroft's monthly “abductions” to relay his status didn't keep her from worrying about him.

She desperately needed to see him, to be able to see for herself that he was okay, but she knew that was impossible.

She sighed as she set down her coffee, glancing at the cafe doors as they opened. She smiled and waved John over to her table.

It had taken a long time for John to come to terms with the events of last June.

She'd gone to visit him at Baker Street one night and found him drunk out of his mind with grief with his pistol sitting on his lap when she walked in.

Taking the bottle from his hand she walked into the kitchen and poured it down the drain. She sighed and started the kettle for tea before turning around to face him.

“I never took you for a coward John Watson.”

He sputtered and opened his mouth to speak, but she interrupted him.

“You're selfishly sitting here, thinking about just giving up, not giving a damn about the rest of us! You think you're the only one who's life has been completely shattered?”

She moved to kneel in front of him, she set the gun on the floor and took his hands in her's.

“You're not alone in this John. You're not the only one who loved him,” she looked at the broken man in front of her with tears streaming down her face. She ignored the guilt she felt at keeping the truth from him, it was her job to keep him safe for Sherlock.

He grabbed her into a hug sobbing, “Oh God Molly. I am so sorry, I wasn't thinking.”

She sniffled, “You're right you weren't. If he were here he'd tell you that you're an idiot.”

He cracked a smile at that, the first since everything that had happened.

That night had changed things. John had moved out of 221 and was regularly seeing his therapist again. He and Molly grew close, meeting up for coffee at least once a week, attempting to pick up the pieces of their lives.

Since that night she'd learned to mask the guilt she felt in lying to him, feigning her grief. In a way it wasn't a lie, she was grieving for herself, and the life they'd all had before. She was lying to the very people she cared for most, even if it was for their own protection. She only hoped that when the truth was revealed they would understand why she did what she had to.

John kissed her on the cheek in greeting and slid into the chair across from her. There was something in his demeanor that she hadn't seen in a long time.

“How are you John?” she asked taking a sip of her coffee.

“Good.... things are great, fantastic even,” he said smiling a genuine smile for the first time in months.

Molly raised her eyebrows and reached across the table to pinch his hand.

“Ow! What did you do that for?” he exclaimed pulling his hand out of her reach.

“Sorry, needed to make sure you were real,” she smirked.

He rolled his eyes at her, “Why because I'm in a good mood?”

“No a good mood is different, this is” she gestured vaguely at him.

He laughed, “I have good news. Or at least I hope it is.”

She smiled, “Well go on, share with the class.”

“I've met someone.”

Molly felt her mouth dropped open in shock. Whatever she had been expecting to hear John say it certainly wasn't that.

Recovering from the shock she got up from the table and hugged him.

“Oh John that's wonderful news!”

“I hoped you'd think so. She's wonderful, really.”

Molly took her seat, “Well come on tell me all about her! Where did you meet? How long have you been seeing each other? Details John!”

John chucked at her enthusiasm. “Her name is Mary Morstan. She brought her nephew into the clinic with a broken wrist, and before she left she'd slipped me her number and told me to give her a call.”

Molly smiled, glad that this Mary had taken the initiative with him, she knew how crap John could be at asking women out.

“We've been seeing each other for a almost a month now,” he looked down at his hands. “I wanted to tell you earlier but I didn't want to jinx things.”

“I completely understand. I'm really happy for you John,” she grabbed his hand and squeezed. She was relieved that John had found someone. It meant that he was finally starting to heal, allowing himself to trust someone else.

“So when do I get to meet her?”

“How about tomorrow night? She's been wanting to meet you too.”

Molly tensed at that, she didn't want to appear to be a threat to this woman who held John's heart.

“She knows about me?”

“Of course she does. She knows what happened...with everything,” his words stumbled, not wanting to think about it.

Molly nodded, “Tomorrow night sounds good. I'd like to get to know her,” she smiled at him.

He let out a sigh of relief, “I'm glad. I hope you like her half as much as I do.”

She laughed, “How could I not when she's clearly made you so happy?” she gave his hand another reassuring squeeze.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket and she jumped startled. She glanced down at it, a text message on the screen.

Car just around the corner.

She sighed and put her phone away and grabbed her purse.

“I'm sorry John, but I've got to run,” she said apologetically.

He stood and hugged her. “I understand. What say you come to my place tomorrow around 7? We can grab take away and you can meet Mary?”

“Sounds like a plan,” she smiled and quickly left the cafe.

She rounded the corner and saw the familiar black car, Anthea standing outside tapping away on her phone. She'd gotten used to Mycroft's abrupt manner, but it didn't make it any less inconvenient.

She nodded at Anthea as she opened the door and slid inside the car.

She sighed as she rifled through her purse looking for her keys, not bothering to look up as she spoke.

“What is it this time Mycroft? You already gave me my update for this month. Or are you once again impressing upon me the need for secrecy? I'm not the one who needs reminding,” She couldn't resist the dig, John having told her the truth about Mycroft and Moriarty.

There was a low chuckle from the seat across from her. She whipped her head up at that and gasped.

“Sherlock?!”


End file.
